


Domestic

by acertainphilosophy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acertainphilosophy/pseuds/acertainphilosophy
Summary: After everything they've been through, they deserve some calm and some mundane. Diverges from canon somewhere around the middle of BoO, takes place some months or years down the line.





	1. The Fall (or, alternatively, “Nothing Goes Right in the Early Morning”)

Nico turned, briefly hoping he was still dreaming, to avoid the reality of wakefulness, as had become tradition. It took a moment for his mind to catch up and remind him that reality was no longer the oppressive force it used to be and yet another to realize that he was desperately thirsty.

Bleary eyed and still exhausted despite what was probably a long sleep, he shifted aching muscles in an attempt to get up. He didn’t get very far before getting blocked by the massive weight across his chest. He grumbled, although he was not altogether annoyed by this.

“Grace. Move.” He shot a glare at the mound beside him, whose arm was draped over most of Nico’s abdomen. The glare had no effect, as the blonde’s face was serenely comatose for the time being. Nico sighed, hiding his smile even though no one was there to see it, and resorted to shadow travelling to the kitchen.

He didn’t bother to be quiet as he moved about, after that display. He went about procuring one glass from the cabinet, in amongst their eclectic assortment of novelty mugs and glassware. He only remembered after about two full minutes of easing the glass out of the mess in complete silence that he didn’t care about maintaining the silence. Jason was completely passed out. No need to put in so much effort.

A glass in hand, next was water. His dry throat could not swallow.

The sink was situated just under a tiny window, which Nico had always liked. It was nice to look out at the bustling city streets below as he did the dishes. Now, the city slept. It seemed to be the golden hour of reduced traffic, the very early morning where the night life had already passed through and only the earliest workers were heading out for the day. A bird landed on a clothesline and let out a few quick chirps. He filled the glass from the sink. The world was still cloaked in darkness; the bird flew away into it.

He took the water down in too-big gulps that hurt his throat and moved too fast to properly satiate his thirst, emptying the glass in seconds. Though the experience was brief, he noticed the tap water was surprisingly cold. Usually, it tasted a little weird and never got much colder than room temperature. He remembered Jason joking about some terrible monster hiding in the plumbing, purposefully messing it up just enough to be annoying as an act of vengeance. A harsh laugh-like sound broke past the pain in his throat, but the noise was too loud and he cut it to silence immediately.

He refilled his glass and walked over to their little two-person ‘dining table’ in the corner of the kitchen. Through the dark he could make out a handful of letters neatly stacked next to the fake fern they kept as a centerpiece. He knew it would all be addressed to himself, all the stuff he’d missed over the last week (?) he’d been gone. Unlike Jason, he could make the executive decision to _deal with that later_.

It was probably all junk, anyway. Sometimes Hazel would send him something, but usually she just preferred to IM. She was so set in her life with Frank in New Rome that Nico hardly had to worry about her these days. She didn’t seem to worry about him as much, either, now that she could tag-team the worrying with Reyna and Jason.

He ran his hand next to the pile mindlessly, trying to recall the last time he’d talked to Hazel. Right before he’d left on the mission for his father, he’d gotten the traditional, exasperated go-ahead from her. She’d been baking in her big kitchen. Which brought him back to his own, comparably little, table.

The ‘dining table’ was wooden, and actually a pretty nice piece of furniture. They’d gotten it from an impromptu stop at a yard sale on one of the many drives between the apartment and the camp. Jason had found it under a weird lightning bolt tapestry, which was coincidentally hung now above the couch. Aside from Jason’s questionable method of choosing, it was sturdy and felt quite expensive. It probably deserved better chairs.

For now, they only had metal folding chairs flanking the small table. He pulled one out carefully. Moving around in the glasses was one thing, but the horrible screech that would have come from the rubber feet sliding across tile could wake the dead, let alone a sleeping half-blood.

Nico sat down with his glass of water and jumped almost immediately back up as the cold metal shocked the backs of his thighs.

A wave of vague embarrassment rolled over him after the surprise wore off, as he considered his outfit. He’d been so tired he hadn’t really put any thought into it, but how cliché could a guy get? He was armed against the cold of the night with only his boxers and one of Jason’s shirts, which was so big that it hung from him like a tarp. If anybody saw this he’d probably die right there and then. For the thousandth time, he was immensely thankful for the cover of shadows and the dead of night.

He had a vague memory of Jason pushing the clothes at him. Annoyance overtook the mounting shame, and Nico was somewhat relieved to push the blame somewhere else.

He pretended the heat across his face was from getting up too quickly and picked the glass up, foregoing the plan of sitting altogether.

He brought the glass to his lips, his previous desperation curbed enough so that he had some restraint this time. He was prepared to take a small sip now that his throat was feeling normal again, when a sudden shout from the bedroom sent the glass flying from his hand. It shattered on the floor, but he was already running to the call of distress.

He burst through the bedroom door with enough force to make a wicked cracking sound from the doorframe, to see Jason sitting upright and wild eyed in amongst tangled sheets.

A beat of mingled relief and anxiety.

Instantly Nico changed modes from “a monster is currently eating my boyfriend” to “calm presence that will hopefully not provoke a wind knocking me into the wall”. He set his sword down in the hallway. He didn’t even remember grabbing it.

Palms forward, slow steps brought him closer to the blond demigod. Jason’s eyes were searching everywhere but Nico’s face, rapid breaths wracking his sweat-drenched form. It hurt to look at.

“Jace, it’s okay. It’s me. Nico. Apartment, New York,” poured from his slow tongue as he eased down onto the mattress to close the gap. The words were coated in caution and, despite Nico’s best efforts, some amount of apprehension. Luckily Jason was already on the upswing and it didn’t take even that much for him to regain his senses. Nico was just being careful because he _had_ been gusted into that wall before and did _not_ want much for it to happen again.

Jason’s eyes met his and there was an apology there, but Nico pretended he didn’t see it.

“It was just a dream,” he started, reaching out to grab Nico’s hand and pull him closer. Nico relaxed some amount, resting his head on the nearest available shoulder. Jason didn’t have nightmares as often as Nico did, but it wasn’t exactly uncommon for him, either. It might have something to do with fighting in two wars before being even legally able to drive.

He traced slow circles into Jason’s wrist with his thumb. Internally, he was also trying to calm his own adrenaline rush, thinking about the sword left outside the door and what the dream might have meant and-

“…A dream, and then I woke up to an empty space, so you can imagine the panic-“

Nico groaned and moved away a little. Someone was feeling better.

“I was _thirsty_ , Grace, I’m allowed to move around my own damned house,”

“-When I felt warmth fading away, left in the cold, alone-“

“Like Jason Grace, the incredible human furnace, could ever be cold,”

“-In _my_ own damned house, where I could’ve sworn someone else was living, you know, at least _some_ of the time-“

“We agreed that it was necessary for me to keep doing the Underworld jobs, and this one was just longer than most, but I _did_ try to get it done as fast as possible,”

Jason huffed and wrapped his arms around Nico, tugging him nearly into his lap. He buried his face in Nico’s hair and spoke, muffled, from somewhere above his ear.

“I rescind my vote on that one.”

Nico let out an exasperated sigh that could’ve been read as fondness, but he preferred to not think of it that way. He leaned into the embrace, only because he was still just so tired. He felt like he could sleep for a hundred years.

“Jason, it’s late,” he started. He tried to say something after that, but none of the half-formed thoughts quite materialized into anything meaningful.

“Just get a normal job. Paperboy or something. You could even be a house-husband; I make enough to keep the lights on. Probably. If not, I’ll work two jobs. Three.”

Nico froze up a little bit at the accidental ‘husband’ implication but managed to swallow _that_ feeling to deal with the main issue here. He shifted around so that they could see each other’s faces, to take full advantage of the serious, scary look that had ended so many conversations for him in the past.

“You know that’s not the only reason I take the jobs.”

Many conversations, but never ones with the son of Jupiter.

“What is it then? Your dad got along just fine without you for how many millennia, and he likes you enough to pay for whatever you want with or without actual labor, it’s not as if money has much meaning to him anyway,” Jason muttered, and by his expression, Nico wasn’t sure at this point if it was worth the risk to silence him, even though he was getting dangerously close to insulting the god of the Underworld.

“So what is it, Nico? Because I’m not sure if I can deal with some thinly veiled excuse for you running away again-“

“It’s not.”

“I just, I really thought you meant it when you said you wanted to stay with me-“

“I did.”

“I know old habits die hard or whatever, but, man, you just had to wrap my heart up in everything first-“

“Jason!” Nico said it too loud and slammed his hands over his own mouth. He let go of the shadows he’d been inadvertently dragging nearer. His face was hot, and the pricking in his eyes had built to an upwelling, obstructing his vision in the already dark room. Even in the dark and without his glasses, he knew Jason could tell. This was absolutely mortifying.

And yet, Jason seemed calmer than ever, pulling Nico’s hands from his face and leaning in close. Close, to press his lips to his forehead and wrap arms around Nico’s shoulders. He didn’t move away. Another apology, and Nico didn’t deserve it. Regardless, he felt his breathing come back to a normal rate, and the tightness in his chest eased, only to become a ball of shame in his stomach. He swallowed.

“I’m not trying to run away. I really did try to come back as fast as possible. I missed you the whole time.”

“Me too. But I got the added bonus of worrying about you. Whether you would come back at all. I always worry.”

“I’m not doing stuff that dangerous, and I’m pretty capable anyway, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Just going outside is dangerous enough; you don’t have to tempt the fates like this.”

“I just… don’t want to disappoint him.”

Jason paused at that, then pulled away with an odd smirk twisting his face.

“Nico, you’ve done enough to make any parent proud. Even the Lord of the Underworld. You’ve proven yourself ten times over. If everything up until now wasn’t good enough, there’s nothing more you can do. But, you know your dad likes you more than, like, any other godly parent likes their kid, right?”

Nico’s breath caught. He knew who he was trying to live up to.

“I’ll never be- _augh!_ ” While he was talking, he’d been casually moving his leg to a more comfortable position and his foot brushed the sheets, which apparently created a sharp stinging sensation now.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jason looked a little too panicked for the situation, but Nico was busy trying to feel in the darkness for the source of the pain. It was as if the sheets had turned into broken glass or – oh.

“Nico?”

“I just remembered, I think I dropped a glass in the kitchen when you screamed,” he tried to explain, but Jason was already moving for the light switch.

Yellow light spread out from the flimsy floor lamp, revealing the gray painted walls, Nico’s aviator jacket and jeans in a pile on the floor, the white sheets worked up into a tangle all to one side of the bed, and the puddle of blood surrounding Nico’s lacerated foot, as well as smears of red on every surface and fabric between himself and the door. The mattress was going to be ruined if they didn’t act fast.

Of course, Jason was more interested in the source of the problem, the foot in question, and this difference in priorities led to Nico trying to lift the fitted sheet from the mattress with one hand while batting a concerned demigod off with the other.

“Jason, the mattress! Focus, would you?”

“One bloodstain won’t ruin the mattress, weirdo. I think. I’ve never owned a mattress before but I’m pretty sure that’s a reasonable assumption. If we don’t stop the bleeding you’re going to pass out soon,” he grunted, attempting to push past Nico’s defense.

“I’ve never owned one either, but I like this one and I don’t want to take any chances. The sheets are definitely wrecked. Would you calm down? It’s not that much blood-uh, _uh- Jason_ -“ he sputtered out as Jason somehow slipped in and scooped him up in a bridal carry, hoisting him out of the bed.

“You’re the worst. Be careful, I left my sword on the floor over there, it would be a Greek level tragedy if you were to also cut your own foot in this moment.” Jason laughed, but his features were still tinted with worry. He stepped over the sword, and an additional three steps brought them to the bathroom.

Once Nico was seated on the rim of the bathtub, leg elevated onto the toilet, Jason made a desperate grab for his glasses. He closed his eyes once they were on and took a deep breath. Nico didn’t know what it was like to not be able to see, but it probably didn’t help stress levels. Jason looked a fraction calmer, and slightly more like a superhero in disguise than usual.

He turned and grabbed the first aid kit from the shelf beside the sink. Nico would bet that theirs was bigger and more frequently used than in most normal households. It was only two weeks ago the last time they’d opened it up, when Jason had come back from work with a cut from winding up the firehose. It was outfitted with all the demigod essentials, which Chiron sent in little gift baskets once a month. He probably worried too much. Then again, the kit was never too full despite the consistent restocking.

Jason handed him a square of ambrosia first, then got to work inspecting the wound. Nico took a quarter of the square and put the rest to the side, because this was a stupid injury and didn’t deserve a whole freaking square of ambrosia. It tasted like a warm brownie, because it always did when Jason was around.

“Nico, there are still pieces of glass in here. How did you not notice this earlier?” Jason said, grabbing the tweezers, with a mix of exasperation and anxiety.

“I’ve felt worse.” That earned a glare from behind the glasses. “And we were kind of dealing with something else, if you don’t remember.”

“Currently trying to forget, actually. I’m going to rinse this now, it might sting.”

“The ambrosia protects against infection enough, there’s no need to. Please don’t. Please. Jason. _Why_ …” he drawled out in a hiss as the alcohol infiltrated and forced painful awareness into every stinging nerve in the cut. Jason bumbled about with a bandage, unfazed by Nico’s most intense death glare even in its most distilled manifestation. Even his murderous aura had no effect.

 Nico had once been somewhat impressed by his immunity but now it was just infuriating. How was he ever supposed to keep him in line? This was his most powerful weapon of authority, abrogated. Instead he had the nerve to look finally at peace, with a tranquil smile tilting his scarred lip that brought calm to Nico’s chest. How dare he.

“That should be okay. Tell me if I did it too tight or anything, it wouldn’t be great if you lost your foot to a Band-Aid.” Actually, it was just a fraction too loose, but Nico wasn’t going to say anything. He could already feel the effects of the ambrosia filling in the gaps in Dr. Grace’s expertise.

Nico slid to his feet and exited the bathroom, aware of but not entirely displeased by Jason’s cautious hand held hovering near his elbow. He turned on the hallway light and grabbed the dust vacuum from the hall closet in two fluid motions, moving toward the glass mess at the opening to the kitchen. Apparently, that was enough to remove any remaining concern from Jason’s mind, as the hand vanished from his side. Instead of focusing on the combined relief and disappointment that brought (of which he wasn’t sure for what he felt more shame), he pushed the vacuum back into those hands and knelt to pick up any larger glass pieces.

Jason, meanwhile, did the ‘sensible’ thing and turned on the overhead kitchen light, which had a tacky plastic shade that looked like a corncob. A vibrant yellow filled the small space, illuminating the shards of glass and the glittering puddle of shard-water across the laminate flooring.

“Nico, where’s the ‘on’ switch for this thing?”

“It’s at the base of the handle… No wait, that’s the-“

A thick clicking sound was followed by a rain of dust and debris across the entire kitchen-to-hallway area, including Nico and the glass.

“Dust bag release.”

“Well.”

“How hard is it to listen until the end of a sentence, Grace?”

“I swear I cleaned out the bag last time,” he mumbled, and Nico could tell that it was a genuine kind of confusion and not diversionary. If crumbs weren’t tumbling down inside the neck of his shirt right now, Nico would almost be sympathetic.

As it was, Nico tried to shake the debris from his hair. The mess was now so overbearing that this was a halfhearted attempt at best. It still loosed a cloud of dust about his head which tickled his nose and throat.

“You love me, right?” Jason tried, clearly also just at a loss for this situation that he mostly caused.

“Only if you let me get a shower instead of cleaning this.”

Jason looked excited for only a moment before he realized that that meant he would be cleaning the mess alone, not just putting it off entirely for a group activity. Nico stuck around long enough to see that he understood, then quickly kissed him on the cheek as he passed back into the hallway.

“Good luck,” he shot over his shoulder before closing the bathroom door. “Love ya, Superman.”


	2. Christmas, Saturnalia, who knows, we're just here for a good time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short Christmas thing because holidays give me feelings.

The old TV set crackled and whined between black and white flashes of James Stewart’s face, as the couple on screen sang their hearts out (Buffalo Gals, Jason thought), picking their way between hydrangea bushes. The sounds of the city didn’t interfere too much with their movie watching experience, and Jason was glad to see that Nico was very engrossed in the movie. Neither of them really had much experience with media or television, so the poor quality didn’t really matter. They turned to this channel just as ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ started playing, and it was Christmas, so might as well watch all the way through.

They were stationed on the floor, leaning back into the foot of the couch, plush blankets surrounding every side (one with a huge cartoon cloud printed on it had just been gifted to him earlier from Thalia). Nico was to his right, with his leg pressed against Jason’s (still further away than Jason would prefer), eyes glued to the screen and mug of hot chocolate in hand. Awash in the glow from the fairy lights, he looked beautiful as ever. He still had a cookie sprinkle on his upper lip and the red and green skull decal bowtie was undone, as well as the top two buttons of his shirt. Jason really was not paying much attention to the movie.

That’s why it came rather as a shock when Nico turned to him suddenly with a disconcerted expression.

“This movie’s too sad. I don’t want to watch it anymore.”

“What? They were just dancing and stuff. Everybody fell in the pool.”

“Jason were you not watching. I swear if you just made me suffer alone, I will end you.” His voice was steady and deadpan, but his expression and the tear threatening to fall from his eye made him take this a little more seriously. In one motion he turned down the volume with one hand and threaded the other arm around Nico’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry. What’s up?”

“Ugh, never mind. It’s stupid.”

Jason didn’t really know what to do when someone was sad over something that wasn’t real. The only time Nico had ever reacted badly to a movie before had been when ‘Bella Vita’ came on. It was an old Italian movie about the Holocaust and someone had flipped to it at the part where things were just starting to get bad – not a fond memory. They never really talked about Nico’s life before he got to camp (mostly because he didn’t remember much of it) but being a gay kid in Italy between the wars couldn’t have been great.

“Just tell me what part of it is too sad? I saw that his dad died, but it’s a Christmas movie, so it has to have a happy ending, right?”

“Well yeah, his dad died, and now he’s stuck again, Jason. All this guy ever wanted was to explore the world and build things, but he’s too nice. He’s like you, he never thinks of himself first. But his dreams are going to fall apart because of it.”

“If he’s anything like me… he’ll find that his dreams aren’t what he thought. He’s got Mary, see? And that’s all that matters. Alright? You just have to look at it like the most important things are that he has her and his family. Helping others and loving her is his greatest journey, better than anything he could find if he continued with his childhood ambitions.”

“What are you saying, if he’s anything like you, huh? Am I your Mary now or something?”

Jason smiled and pulled him closer in lieu of answering.

“Gods you’re such a sap. Fine, we can keep watching. But if I suffer any more emotional duress, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough. I’ve never seen this before so that all could have been complete BS just then.”

“Hmm. If it goes wrong, you’re cleaning up the dishes from the party.”

“If it goes right, you have to do all the grocery shopping tomorrow to restock everything.”

“Deal. But I won’t get you any more cereal if I’m in charge of the list.”

“Why? I need a quick breakfast before leaving in the morning, and I only trust the Captain to nourish me.” The Captain was Captain Crunch. Jason had recently discovered sugar and had been immediately addicted.

“Because the big box doesn’t even fit in the cabinet! You leave it out on the counter, and then whenever Percy IMs he sees it and insists on calling it his ‘estranged uncle’, and it’s just weird. I’ll get you froot loops or something instead.”

“Can you get both?”

He turned up the volume again before Nico could object, though this earned him a playful sock to the back of the head. The couple on screen had given up their honeymoon to help the townspeople, but it was okay; Mary had set up a Christmas dinner in the old house at 320 Sycamore Street and their friends were belting out a lovely carol from outside the window. After some confusion, George Bailey looked content.  

Jason shifted so Nico was _almost_ in his lap, and felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is a gift for myself from me. And to anybody else who wants it I guess. If you are confused about there being no conflict, it's because I don't like conflict and that's the only reason. Just fluff to get us through these trying times. I've never read past BoO (though I know what Rick Has Done), and I probably never will. Good tidings to all and to all a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is set in the canon universe, just with the boys set up in a small New York apartment. Look forward to a future chapter detailing the quest to get divine protection for this little abode from a certain goddess. These chapters aren't extremely chronological, mostly kind-of one-shots. Enjoy-


End file.
